


Soup for the Broth of Us

by Imori_Hikaru



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Brotherly Love, Brothers, Gen, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28033584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imori_Hikaru/pseuds/Imori_Hikaru
Summary: Osamu never got sick. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d been sick. Of course, the one time he does get sick their parents are away, leaving him at the mercy of Atsumu.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu
Comments: 10
Kudos: 135
Collections: SofA Lite





	Soup for the Broth of Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amaikana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaikana/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [amaikana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaikana/pseuds/amaikana) in the [sofa2020lite](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/sofa2020lite) collection. 



Osamu never got sick. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d been sick. Of course, the one time he does get sick their parents are away, leaving him at the mercy of Atsumu.

Osamu woke up feeling more sluggish than usual. Normally, he would be out of bed and have breakfast on the table long before Atsumu woke up, but this time, Osamu was roused awake by Atsumu. Atsumu’s head was tipped to the side as he peered down at Osamu. Osamu frowned. His brother’s face was not the sight he wanted to wake up to.

“Yer sweaty.”

“G’mornin’ to you too,” Osamu grumbled, swatting away Atsumu’s hand. “Don’t touch me then.” Osamu slowly pulled himself up to sit, his blankets pooling around his waist. It did feel incredibly warm in here. Atsumu ignored him, pressing the back of his hand against Osamu’s moist forehead. His nose wrinkled, making Osamu roll his eyes.

“Are you sick?”

“No.” Osamu swatted his hand away again. “I never get sick.”

“I think you have a fever.”

“‘M fine.”

“Ya don’t look fine.”

“Jee, thanks.” Osamu struggled out of his blankets and shoved Atsumu out of the way to get out of bed, only for the room to tilt and for him to slam heavily into Atsumu, who stumbled at the sudden impact, but was easily able to regain his footing and keep Osamu from hitting the floor.

“‘Samu,” Atsumu’s voice was firm, not the teasing lit that Osamu would have expected. “Yer sick.

“Really I’m fi--”

“Ya literally just about fell over. Shut up and get back in bed.”

“‘Tsumu--”

“Bed,” Atsumu commanded. Osamu held his gaze for a moment, compimplating further argument, but in the end he folded. Osamu crawled back in bed and frowned up at his brother.

“Happy?”

“No. I’ll be right back,” Atsumu declared. Osamu groaned. He wanted to be left alone. Atsumu was acting concerned now, but he knew that he was never going to hear the end of this.

As promised, Atsumu returned within a few minutes, a damp washcloth in one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other. Their mom always gave them orange juice when they were sick, so he had a feeling that he was just mimicking her. Osamu glared at him.

“Yer so annoying.”

“Excuse you,” Atsumu set the glass down, nearly spilling it in the process. “I’m trying to help you.”

“I don’t want yer help,” Osamu grumbled. “I want to sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just put this on your head.” Atsumu knew better than to try and put the cloth on Osamu himself, but he still wanted him to put it on. Osamu was very reluctant, but humored Atsumu. It at least got Atsumu to leave him be, with a promise (threat) to be back to check on him.

#  ~🥣~

Atsumu frowned at his phone, rereading the words on the screen. This seemed far more complicated than it needed to be in his opinion, but he was going to do his best. If Osamu could do it, then so could he. Hopefully.

Two cuts and a burn later, Atsumu had made something he was fairly certain was edible. He didn’t think it tasted terrible. It didn’t look great, but that wasn’t important. What was important was that he’d made his sick twin soup. From scratch. He wasn’t sure that Osamu would appreciate his efforts, but he knew that Osamu would have done the same for him had their roles been reversed. Although, he was certain Osamu would have made incredible soup. It was the thought that counts though, right?

Atsumu stood in the kitchen for a long while, staring at his soup trying to decide if he should give this to Osamu or just quickly made something from a can. His phone chirped at him, pulling him from his thoughts. Osamu’s name lit up his screen.  _ Do we have any more juice? _

Atsumu sighed. Juice and soup. Gross. He prepared a bowl for Osamu, got the juice, and padded upstairs towards the bedroom. Osamu was tucked under his blankets, damp cloth on his head, and his phone in his hands. Atsumu made a mental note to get a new cloth for him, that one was probably just sweaty at this point.

“Suna says you’re annoying.” Osamu’s brow quirked up curiously, enjoying the way Atsumu balked at this. He’d been texting Suna and Kita while he made Osamu’s soup.

“Am not. Tell Suna to fuck off.” Atsumu scoffed, setting the bowl and glass on Osamu’s bedside table. Osamu sat up, letting his cloth fall into his lap and he peered over at the liquidy substances.

“What’s that?”

“Soup.” Atsumu didn’t quite meet Osamu’s eyes. Osamu tried to suppress the upward tick of his lips.

“Dunno about that.”

“Just eat it.”

“Yeah, yeah--” Osamu paused, hand hovering between himself and the bowl.

“What?” Atsumu’s eyes narrowed at his brother, who bat his eyelashes in a way that made Atsumu want to smack him.

“Yer nursing me back to health right? Wanna feed me too?”

“Shut yer trap.” Atsumu tried to hide his blush as he took the empty cup from earlier and left Osamu alone with his soup. The soft sound of Osamu’s laughter made him feel lighter though. He couldn’t feel too badly if he was laughing.

#  ~🥣~

Atsumu spent most of the say checking in on Osamu, who slept for most of the day, and getting him whatever he wanted. Usually orange juice, though he was pleasantly surprised when Osamu asked for more soup. Atsumu couldn’t help the pride he felt knowing Osamu not only didn’t hate his cooking, but also requested more.

Only once Atsumu was sure his brother was set for the night did he himself crawl into bed and go to sleep. He wasn't the nurturing type, but he’d always be willing to help Osamu, even if he got on every last one of his nerves.

#  ~🥣~

The next morning, everything was seemingly back to normal. Osamu’s fever was gone and he was awake before Atsumu with breakfast ready. Atsumu groggily wandered downstairs, flopping into a chair at the table and inhaling whatever food was closest to him.

“G’morning,” he finally greeted Osamu.

“You’d better hurry or we’re going to be late for practice.” Osamu had already eaten, his dishes rinsed and put in the sink to deal with after school. Atsumu sighed, pushing away from the table and taking his own dishes to the sink.

“I see you’re feeling better.”

“Mhm.”

“And who do you have to thank for that?” Atsumu asked, smiling coyly at Osamu.

“Don’t push it ‘Tsumu.” He grabbed his bag and started out the door. He heard a few thuds while Atsumu clambered around getting his coat and shoes on to follow him. Atsumu didn’t take long to catch up and walk a few paces ahead of Osamu.

Osamu paused and rolled the snow between his hands, smiling to himself before he lobbed the ball at Atsumu. It connected solidly with the back of Atsumu’s head, the ball falling apart. Some of the snow clung to Atsumu’s hair and shoulders as he whirled around to glare at Osamu.

“I nurse you back from death’s doorstep and this is how you repay me?!”

Osamu threw another snowball, narrowly missing Atsumu’s face. A third thrown in quick succession bursts against Atsumu’s chest.

“You little--” Atsumu grabbed for his own handful of the fluffy, white snow. The twins lost track of time, attacking one another with packed balls of snow, then eventually tackling one another into a snowbank. By the time they stopped, they were late to practice and they were a soggy mess.

#  ~🥣~

Atsumu shivered, tugging the blankets as tightly around him as he could, sniffling loudly. Osamu frowned down at him, cocking a brow in what almost appeared to be amusement.

“‘Tsumu, are ya’ sick?”

“No, fuck off.”

“Ya can’t lie to me ‘Tsumu.”

“Shuddup--”

“Want me to make you some soup?” Osamu wore a teasing smile. “Bet it’ll be better than yours.”

“Yer the worst,” Atsumu grumbled. He had already decided to blame Osamu for this. He either caught it from his brother, or he got sick from playing in the snow. Either way, Osamu was at fault.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Tumblr](https://imori-hikaru.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Imori_Hikaru_)!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!


End file.
